Read No Groom at the Inn: A Dukes Behaving Badly Novella for Free Online Page A

gowns the other women were wearing—this gown had one frill trailing from her waist diagonally to the other side, ending up at the bottom, serving to highlight just how tall and willowy she was. The bodice was simple as well, fitted perfectly to her frame, showcasing the slope of her elegant shoulders and the strength of her slim arms.
    But the color was what made it hers. The gown appeared to be either brown or purple, the colors shifting depending on how she moved and where the light caught the fabric. It was daring, unusual, and distinctive—like, he was coming to understand, his fake betrothed herself.
    And he did not like the way the young man was looking at her, still. He wanted to be the one gazing into her dark brown eyes, the recipient of her quick, shy smile.
    More than that, however, he wanted to hold her in his arms and find out what it would be like to kiss a lady who was nearly his height.
    It was purely the jealousy of a male who was accustomed to being the center of female attention, he assured himself. While also feeling like a spoiled child.
    But no matter why he felt the way he did, he knew one thing—the gift he wanted most for this holiday season was a kiss from her. Despite what he’d vowed before. A kiss, just one kiss, couldn’t do any harm, could it? And if it brought joy to both of them—holiday joy, the joy of the season, and he knew it would bring joy to her, he had been told often enough of his kissing prowess—then it would make the season brighter.
    One gift, that was not so wrong to wish for, was it?
    And he was going to do his damnedest to get it.
    “S ophy,” he said, striding toward her as the men returned to the drawing room where the ladies sat, drinking their tea after dinner.
    He’d met the man who’d so engrossed her during dinner. The vicar, who apparently had known Sophronia’s father and chattered on about some sort of book collection he had that she had agreed they would both go see. Not a threat, then.
    She looked up at him, arching her eyebrow in a faintly dismissive manner, which only served to make him want to fluster her even more. “Yes, James?”
    Good. She was addressing him by his first name now. He smirked at the thought of suggesting she call him by a nickname—“lord and master,” perhaps, or “future perfection.” He knew that would irk her as much as it would amuse him.
    “Mrs. Green was telling me about some of the items she’s collected, and she wanted me to take a look at them. I was wondering if you would like to accompany us?”
    “My daughter is just as knowledgeable about the collection as I am, Mr. Archer,” Mrs. Green said, raising her voice as she spoke over the distance between them. “Lady Sophronia has just gotten a fresh cup of tea, we wouldn’t want to disturb her.”
    Jamie met Sophronia’s eyes, and he saw perfect understanding there. Thank goodness.
    She placed her teacup on the table next to her, then rose in one elegant movement. It looked like water flowing upstream, or a tree nymph emerging from her woodland home.
    Or a tall, lovely woman standing. When had he ever been poetic like that before? He’d have to say never. Not that backwards-running water sounded like anything Wordsworth or any of his cohorts would say, but it was definitely more colorful than he had ever been before.
    “I would love to see your collection, Mrs. Green, thank you so much for thinking of James and his interests in these things. I share his interest, that is but one of the things we have in common.” She walked to where he stood and took his arm, gazing up at him with an adoring glance.
    Bravo, he wished he could say, only that would totally give the game away, wouldn’t it?
    “My son has always been interested in old things,” his mother said. From the spiteful glint in Mrs. Green’s eye as she heard the comment, Jamie knew the woman was thinking of Sophronia’s age, and he wished he could deliver some sort of cutting response.
    But they